


Cannot fix what is broke

by alizaporter



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: ACAB, Angst, Black Lives Matter, Canon Gay Relationship, Gunshot, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, character injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24694033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alizaporter/pseuds/alizaporter
Summary: Raymond struggles to make a decision until one is made for him.
Relationships: Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a young, white queer woman, so if anything I've said here is offensive, please tell me and I'll delete it right away. I do not speak for black people and their struggles. I wanted to write a story about how Holt copes with all of this and how the entire squad quits. B99 cops aren't actual cops. ACAB.

“Tell the commissioner that the 99th’s uniformed officers are simply unavailable to monitor protesters. They are all assisting detectives with cases.”

“But sir, only five uniforms are outside of the precinct. They are assisting Diaz and Boyle with the drug ring and are due to report back soon.”

“I’ve forgotten, Thomas. You are not familiar with how I handle lies. I only tell them when lives are in danger. When police intervene with protests, millions of lives are endangered. Do you understand?”

“Absolutely Captain Holt. I will tell the commissioner on your behalf.”  
Thomas was Holt’s third new assistant this month, and he was thinking of removing the position entirely. Peralta had said that he was being “too harsh” on his new employee, but he was incorrect. If Thomas questioned another direct order, he would indeed be fired.   
Holt looked through a stack of potential cases that had been sent to the precinct. Identifying actual crimes was much more difficult now than it had ever been. Officials at the top of the NYPD identified “dangerous” protest organizations and individuals, requesting detectives to investigate their lives and infiltrate their homes. According to his exact calculation, 98.3 percent of these “perps” were people of color. When reaching for his coffee, he accidentally knocked the stack into the trash.   
“Oops”  
The captain found it increasingly difficult to run his precinct in the wake of the protests. This was not due to the protesters themselves, but the fact remained the entire NYPD seemed focused on eliminating them when actual cases continued to remain unsolved. He had ordered most of the detectives and officers to remain inside the precinct during on duty hours, despite typical patrol routes. He disbanded any allowances to the armory and had dismantled the entire supply of tear gas the 99 had. He had worked tirelessly to command good detectives who commanded good uniformed officers, but continued to find people who slipped through the cracks. The increased pressure from the city to do something real threatened the entire 99 to shut down unless they followed orders. Raymond had found himself on a very consistent life play for a very long time but had began to reconsider what defined him as a gay, black police captain.  
His home life with Kevin had additionally been impacted. His husband had always been disgusted by the police, knowing well how deep seated corruption lay from discussions with Raymond himself. Kevin even had his students approach him during office hours to confront him about his husband. If he was really a “good cop” he wouldn’t be a cop at all. According to Kevin, this accusation came from a young black woman, a lesbian. Wasn’t she the type of person Raymond wanted to bring hope to? Wasn’t it Raymond’s dream since childhood to dismantle the racist system that was the New York Police Department? His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Lieutenant Jeffords bursting into his office without knocking. Just as he was about to tell him off and send him away, Terry spoke first.  
“Captain Holt, we have a large group of civilians protesting outside of the building right now”

“What is the nature of their protesting?”

“They’ve done some property damage sir, to outside police cars. There are no uniforms outside as you requested. The building is locked and the reception area has been cleared. Should we do something?”

“Let me observe.”

Raymond followed Terry out of his office and onto the roof. From the height they were standing, the protesters could not see them. But the both of them looked down onto the crowd and could hear them well. Raymond held his bird watching binoculars to his eyes to observe the destruction. 

“They seem to know a lot about us sir, the signs are very specific.”

“Yes, Lieutenant. I find the internet relays any kind of information one would want to know, even things we would rather remain private.”

Raymond focused in on some of the signs. Under his breath, he muttered some of them.  
“WE DEMAND ACCOUNTABILITY”

“REAL ALLIES WOULD QUIT”

“SILENCE IS VIOLENCE”

“DO NOT HIDE FROM US”

Some of the signs identified specific detectives, demanding they resign from the NYPD. Raymond knew his precinct was known to be safer for minorities than most of Brooklyn. If he could make things better here, couldn’t he make things better everywhere?

“May I see the binoculars, sir?”

“If you drop them, you can fly to Brazil and pay six hundred dollars for them Jeffords.”

Terry took them cautiously and looked down. Raymond saw he was focused on a sign that he knew read “LT JEFFORDS QUIT NYPD” with a frown.

“Captain. I don’t want my girls to be ashamed of what their daddy does. I wanted to make the world safer for them. But I don’t think this is the right way to do it anymore.”

“Are you handing in your two weeks notice, Jeffords?”

“No.”

Terry marched back inside. Raymond followed him cautiously. He watched as Jeffords walked into his empty office and put his gun and badge quietly on his desk. He then walked back out, and grabbed a framed photo of his children off of his own desk. 

“I’VE HAD ENOUGH. TERRY IS QUITTING.” 

Jeffords marched toward the stairwell with confidence as the precinct went silent. As Terry vanished, Peralta stood up. 

“THE SYSTEM STINKS!” 

Jake unclipped his gun holster and placed it on his desk. 

“I love you Amy! I’m going to pick up Mac!” 

Jake rode the elevator down just in time to see Terry exit the building. The crowd began to yell angrily when two cops exited, until Terry yelled “I QUIT” and was met with cheers. Jake held his badge tightly in his hand, the grooves digging into his skin. He ran outside behind Terry.  
“Do any of you have some fire I can borrow?”

A lighter was passed toward him through the crowd, and Jake held up his badge. His pride and joy for so long. Being a cop meant everything to him. But realizing why Terry had left, because of his kids, he wanted his son to be proud of the work that he did. Die Hard may be awesome, but it wasn’t real. Jake already saw the design for Die Hard 6 in his head, director Jake Peralta. With his son as the new McClane, he would fight for social justice and disband the police system. It all started with this.  
His badge caught aflame. Cheers erupted from the crowd.  
Above in the bullpen, Amy Santiago silently revised her resume.. Hitchcock and Scully quit when they realized Wingsluts was catering a rally in Queens. When Rosa and Charles realized the “drug ring” was another ploy to arrest more wrongfully accused black people, they went home for the day and deliberated their futures. And Raymond called Kevin. Because Kevin always knew what to do.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
Raymond was at home, and Kevin was nowhere to be seen. He had said that he was attending a late night conference with several professors, but was supposed to be back by nine pm. It was 9:04, and Kevin Cozner was never late.  
Raymond was a pacer. He walked back and forth, his monogrammed slippers patting against the carpet with Cheddar at his heels. It was 9:23 when he received a call.  
“Hello, you’ve reached Captain Raymond Holt. I can come to the phone right now.”  
“Hello, this is Brooklyn Methodist Hospital. Are you the husband of..” A shuffling of papers was heard in the background.  
“Doctor Kevin Cozner?”  
“Yes I am.”  
“Sir, your husband has been shot. He is here in critical condition on the fourth floor in room-”   
Raymond was already out the door, heart pounding. The keys couldn’t turn fast enough as he sped through the streets. It was highly illegal, but he turned on his lights, the red and blue flashing over his face light a nightmare. He didn’t remember the drive or how he got there, but he found himself panting at the service desk. He then found himself at the door of room 317, pushing the door open and rushing to Kevin’s side.  
“Oh dear Kevin, who did this to you?”  
Kevin was unconscious. He likely looked ridiculous talking to him without a response, so he stopped and looked at the doctor above him, his eyes demanding answers.  
“An ambulance was called to a protest on 17th. A police officer fired on a young black teenager and it is reported that your husband shielded him with his own body. Doctor Cozner’s condition has stabilized in the past half hour and should recover fully. However, we need to keep him sedated while we remove the bullet from his stomach. Approximately six inches up and your husband would not be stable. He will awaken tomorrow afternoon. You are allowed to stay in the room as long as you’d like.”  
Upon seeing Kevin’s face and reading his vital charts, Raymond’s heart rate lowered. His breath went even, and a nurse handed him a glass of room temperature water at his request. He watched the IV drip with Kevin’s name and clasped both of his hands around one of Kevin’s own.  
“Do you know the name of the officer who fired the shot?”

The nurse opened a folder and lifted out a paper. It seemed to take much too long for her to find one name. One badge number. One man who Raymond would do everything in his power to send to jail for life.

“His name is Mark Renolds. Records show his badge number is 4537 and he is a uniformed officer at the 63rd precinct.”

“Has he been taken into custody?”

“No. Doctor Cozner was the only person injured, but other shots were fired at this protest. Apparently the crowds closed in on him and he dispersed them with tear gas and fled on a motorcycle.”

Raymond ran his fingers over Kevin’s, Running his finger over the simple wedding band they had chosen. Diamonds were a scam and often mined by underpaid laborers. Their rings were plain and simply had their initials. Raymond ran his hand over the RJH engraving on Kevin’s ring. He longed for Kevin to grasp his hand instead of lying limp on the mattress he lie on, as fluid entered him through a needle piercing his wrist. He thought about the reasons Kevin would lie about going to a protest. He thought about his decision to remain at the 99 just a little while longer. Was Kevin so desperate to make change, to prove he was more than his police captain husband? Was Raymond the reason Kevin was here now? He could hear Kevin’s response in his head, almost as if Kevin had said it himself.  
“Frankly Raymond, that is ridiculous.”  
Raymond nodded.  
“Quite right Kevin. I should stop deliberating and make arrangements for Cheddar. And get that bastard who shot you.”

“Sorry?”

The nurse was still in the room.

“I was talking on the phone.”

Raymond quickly held it up. The nurse nodded awkwardly and exited the room. The first person he called was Charles Boyle.

“Detective Boyle, I have a very important mission for you.”

“Captain, I’m reading Nikolaj a bedtime story.”

“Is Genevive home?”

“Well yes, but”

“Cheddar hasn’t eaten dinner and he needs to eat right away. Please go to my house and remain there until I return home tomorrow. My husband has been shot. This is an emergency.”

“Right away captain.”

Raymond hung up without saying goodbye. It was pointless and wasted time. He dialed Sergeant Santiago next.

“Sergeant. I need you to contact Diaz and collect a uniformed officer for me. His badge number is 4537 and his name doesn’t matter because he almost killed Kevin. He shot a civilian. Contact his captain and have him arrested.”

“Kevin got shot! Oh shit sir, is he okay!”

“He is in stable condition. I would do this myself but I will not leave my husband’s side. GO!”

Raymond hung up. 

Kevin had a slight purple shadow under his eye from late nights working on his new book. His hands were quite soft with the exception of a callus on his finger from scratching away with a pen. Kevin’s hands were much smaller than his, so much gentler. Kevin had never pointed a gun at a person. He had never held an automatic weapon, gripped a riot shield, or threw a smoke grenade. Raymond looked down at his calloused hands with disgust. It was Kevin’s careful dexterity that allowed him to prune the rose bushes to perfection, while Raymond struggled keeping a plant alive. It was his ability to add only a pinch of salt to a meal to make it taste excellent, because any additional spice would be absurd. It was Kevin’s ability to turn the page of a book with his fingers as he read French poetry to Raymond, as he responded with Italian poetry of his own.  
Kevin’s hands had not been cleaned since he entered the hospital. He saw the dried blood on his hands, under his fingernails. He pictured Kevin on the ground in shock, his hands trying to stop the blood flow from his chest to no avail. He saw his husband’s mouth open wide as the headlights were trained on him, as fire flickered nearby. He heard the scream of a young black man behind Kevin as his husband collapsed in the arms of a nineteen year old. He might never meet this boy, lost in the crowd as the medics ripped Kevin away from him. But he could almost hear Kevin explain.  
“He reminded me of Marcus when he was younger. Remember when Marcus snuck out of our house when he was visiting? When he thought we didn’t know about his secret girlfriend?”

He was hearing Kevin’s voice again in a silent room. Raymond allowed several tears of frustration to flow out, counting seven before he stopped crying. But the pain did not recede. He could see Kevin’s chuckle in his head, filling Raymond with warmth he could never find in any other place. Tomorrow was Sunday. The day Kevin pruned the rose bushes. What if he wasn’t home to do this? Perhaps Detective Boyle knew how to prune rose bushes. Ridiculous. It was Kevin’s favorite Sunday activity and he would not be the one to ruin it. The nurse had brought a cot for him to sleep on, which Raymond ignored completely. The hospital bed was much too small for both of them, but despite this, Raymond climbed up and curled around Kevin gently. He could not sleep in this position, but he could not let Kevin go. Not now, not ever again. There and then he knew, there were no good cops.


	3. Chapter Three

Exactly fourteen hours and thirty seven minutes later, Kevin Cozner opened his eyes. He felt Raymond’s hand in his own. He was no longer on the much too small hospital bed but on a chair beside that he had pressed against the side to be as close to Kevin as humanly possible. To most, Raymond looked no different than usual, but Kevin could feel the tension in him and the exhaustion in his eyes. When Raymond saw that he was awake, he leaned in and kissed him.  
“I am so sorry. This was my fault, Kevin. I thought I could bring down years of corruption. I was a fool.”

“I don’t regret what I did and I didn’t do it because of you. I lied because I was afraid it would increase your stress but I shouldn’t have. If anyone should be apologizing”

“You cannot take blame with a gunshot wound in your chest.”

“I guess that means due to my injury, I automatically win the argument.”

“Your sense of humor has recovered I see. I am glad that you are okay.”

Kevin smiled slightly and Raymond felt alive once more. But he wouldn’t feel alive until he did one more thing. He unclipped the badge from his shirt and walked to the bathroom. It took several flushes, but the large, heavy piece of metal was in the sewers for eternity.

“That will do a number on the hospital plumbing.”  
\---  
At the 99th, an officer was detained for a violent hate crime that resulted in a serious injury. After processing the perp, Amy Santiago took a cab home to her husband and son, throwing her badge out the window and watching as it landed in a puddle of mud. Rosa Diaz pinned hers to a wall and threw an axe that cut it clean in half. Charles Boyle went home to his son, right after burying his badge in a box in the park. The uniformed officers followed suit to their detectives, causing a wave through the entire system as an entire precinct just.. quit.  
Kevin went home to recovery, and Raymond to retirement. Amy pursued her passion for library sciences while Jake Peralta became the most present father on the planet. While his father abandoned him for his job, Jake abandoned his job for his son. Terry Jeffords suddenly rose as an internet famous artist after a glowing review from the G-Hive. Charles Boyle expanded his taco truck idea into a fully functioning restaurant that donated 10 percent of its profits to marginalized communities. Hitchcock and Scully seemed to vanish, but always reappeared at Shaw’s Bar every Friday when the old gang met for drinks and nachos. 

Raymond Holt found himself restless for action, but channeled it into words. One year later, his six hundred page expose novel on the NYPD sweeped the globe. At every conference, he continued to advocate for queer communities of color. He and Kevin went on long walks with Cheddar and traveled the world as celebrity activists and inspiring leaders. The American government was forced to disband the police department entirely due to threatening pressure from other world leaders. Raymond did not regret becoming a cop. He would have never met his husband, his chosen family, and found the path that would lead him to the true mission he had longed for as a child. For that, he was thankful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ran out of creativity at the end because I'm sooo tired but here it is, hope this made you feel something


End file.
